Crammed

Did I sound ungracious enough for you yesterday? After reading it over, I decided I need to take a moment today to say, first, that when I spout off like that I'm in no way representing the opinions of my employing agency, just my own, and most importantly that we are truly grateful for people's constant thoughtfulness. There are some things that come through the door that are patently bizarre, but overall we are treated so well by our donor base and I don't want anyone to think I'm less than thankful for the outpouring of generosity I am privileged to witness year-round. I'm not apologizing for yesterday's entry, but I do think it can't hurt to make it extra clear that I only wanted to give potential givers the perspective of someone inside the charity and not bash people for what amounts to their own business. I've always wanted to state my peace on that, and this is my forum. So there.

Time's short, but I have two movies I want to talk about real quick:

1) the mini-series adaptation of Stephen King's Bag of Bones on A&E. Anyone but me watch it? I loved this book so much, and expected to be disappointed anyway, but mah. gahd. it was terrible. Clunkily adapted, unbelievably overacted and miscast like crazy. Melissa George, for whom I have an inexplicable distaste to begin with, was wayyy wrong for Mattie Devore. Pierce Brosnan, though I give him mad props for aging realistically and still looking Le Suave, is too glamorous to be a King hero. I'll spot them Anika Noni Rose because she's bad ass, but damn, it was... not good. So I can't recommend this unless you want to view it for trash-talking purposes. With me.

2) Did I talk about White Christmas last year? I feel like I did, but no matter because here it is again. It's a movie that, for all intents and purposes, I should love. A musical. About Christmas. With Danny Kaye, who is super fun to watch. But no, I don't love it. I find it sort of boring, truth. And I know this is mean but I have to tell you that Vera Allen freaks me out. What is up with her waistline? It's like looking at someone who got wrung to death in the midsection. She's like a cartoon, or a fetish dream. I just can't take her seriously and it ruins the viewing. That said, I'll never see the day where I can get through the General scene without bawling my eyes out. I have a wicked soft spot for that type of WWII camaraderie hoo-ha. Greatest generation, indeed.

Well that surge of semi-negativity was energizing! Back to the pure love part. I'm a long-lapsed Catholic, but back in the days when I went to church, I always loved the solemn beauty of this carol. It's no surprise that Christmas Eve mass with the choir was always packed because in addition to the full-time faithful, it attracted the part-time practitioners, and even people like me now who don't do religion but do beauty instead.